


Scarves for Mama

by rosedarkling



Category: Deep-Sea Prisoner, Mogeko, Okegom, funamusea, 廃れ夢 | Obsolete Dream, 海底囚人, 海底囚人 | Deep-Sea Prisoner, 灰色庭園 | Haiiro Teien | The Gray Garden
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Presents, Family, Feels, Gifts, Implied Relationships, Other, Surprisingly wholesome, Wholesome, gifts for Mama, wholesome content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25429498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosedarkling/pseuds/rosedarkling
Summary: Licorice isn't quite sure why the holiday season is so important or what the meaning of it is. That is, until he discovers a brilliant present to gift to his most treasured person in the whole world.
Relationships: Ivlis/Satanick (Gray Garden) (implied)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	1. A Gift for Ivlis

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I am aware it is literally JULY when I am writing and posting this, lol, but hey, Christmas in July. It's more common than you'd think. XD 
> 
> But, hey, I wanted wholesome content for this cute, messed up family. <3
> 
> Shoutout to my friend, Yume, who helped inspire this sweet idea. Thank you, my friend!

Licorice could sense that something was always different in the air around this time of year. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but everyone in both the Pitch Black and Flame Underworld seemed to be a bit more lively and happy. Though, sometimes happiness for a devil and demon was two very different things than the human definition.

As Poemi pranced around the living room, her red and white dress poofing around her, Licorice stared up at Emalf from his position on the couch. The demon with the piercings and those black shades he always wore – even indoors – stood nearby, his hands in his pocket as he watched Poemi skip around, the girl singing songs that Licorice still didn't quite know by heart yet. “Emalf,” Licorice began.

The demon looked over towards Licorice, a grin on his face, though it was hard to tell if he was truly making eye contact with the boy with those shades constantly plastered over his amber eyes. “What’s up, little dude?”

Nonchalant and casual, as always; Licorice didn’t mind that about Emalf. He felt it made him more approachable to talk to when he had concerns or questions. Though, that lackadaisical attitude would often get under Mama’s skin. Licorice smiled thinking of Mama and what this holiday meant. What did it mean to Mama? Licorice was so curious now.

“What does this Christmas thing really do?” Licorice asked, his large, yellow-orange eyes questioning.

“Eh?” Emalf raised an eyebrow in confusion, unsure what to make of this strange question coming from a kid. After all, shouldn’t every child just be happy for the season? “I, uh, I don’t know what you mean, Lico.”

Licorice glanced over at the humming and skipping Poemi, then back to Emalf. “I just don’t understand what’s so special with this holiday. Everyone gets really happy for some reason. Why is that?”

Emalf stood there with his mouth slightly agape, not quite sure what to say to the boy. Sure, this kid wasn’t like a normal kid – he could easily turn into an adult, which Emalf found strange – but now the boy seemed to be having some sort of existential crisis about the meaning of Christmas.

At this point, Poemi had overheard the conversation, and she hopped over in front of Licorice, grinning. “Christmas is about presents and making those you love happy, Lico!” She spun around in a circle, arms out as she twirled away to continue her dancing and prancing, her light brown hair bouncing around her in her pigtails.

“Uh, yeah, kind of that, I suppose,” Emalf joined in where Poemi left off. “I don’t know the true meaning or why the humans celebrate it, but usually around these parts, everyone kind of just enjoys time with each other. The whole present thing, too; gifts are given to those you care about.” Emalf gave a shrug, his red and black jacket making a slight crinkling sound with the movement. “At least, that’s what I know about it anyway.”

Licorice nodded, staring down at his knees that hung down over the edge of the couch. Despite staring at them, Licorice wasn’t thinking about himself right now. His little mind began racing about what he could do for Christmas if it was a special time to show the ones he loved how he cared about them. He could easily piece together some small ideas of what he could potentially buy or make for Emalf and Poemi, but when it came to Mama, Licorice wanted to do something extra special. He loved Mama dearly, and he wanted to see him smile. The thought alone made Licorice smile even wider, imagining Mama’s smile with his golden eyes lighting up. But what to do?

Licorice frowned in concentration as he tried to imagine what he could do for Mama’s Christmas gift. He liked sunflowers, so maybe he could grow some for him. No, too simple, Licorice decided. Besides, Mama had tried growing some before, and when they hadn’t bloomed, Licorice had felt terrible to see Mama cry over that. Those bad sunflower seeds! Flowers wouldn’t do for Mama’s present.

As Licorice continued to think about what he could do for his mother, Poemi’s cheerful cry of, “Papa!” had Licorice looking up to see Ivlis striding into the room. He loved seeing Mama – he was truly pretty with his long red and dark gray hair in a ponytail down his back. And the way Mama’s horns and tail curled reminded Licorice of his own, though Ivlis’s were red whereas Licorice had more of a purple tone to his thanks to his father.

Poemi flung herself into Ivlis’s waist, arms wrapping around him, grinning up at him with a huge smile plastered on her face. “Papa, can we go shopping now? Huh? Pwetty pwease?”

Ivlis sighed out, giving Poemi a pat on the head between her curled, red horns. Poor Mama always looked so tired, Licorice noticed. He could see whenever Ivlis was upset, tired, mad, sad, or happy – Licorice always had his eyes on Mama whenever Mama was around. Today, he could see Ivlis was clearly tired and somewhat…agitated. But everyone else seemed so happy during this time; why was Mama sad?

As Licorice thought about what could be bothering Ivlis, the flame devil notified Emalf on what to do. “Emalf, take Poemi somewhere to shop, okay? Make sure she picks out something nice.” Ivlis looked at Poemi, giving her a fatherly look – stern but loving all at once. “You’re not picking out anything that is just going to be used for slaughtering. Got it?”

Poemi puffed out her cheeks for a moment, soon deciding it was best not to argue with her father about something like that. “Okay, fine, no slaughtering for Poemi. I’m getting a dolly then!” Poemi spun out of her father’s arms to grab onto Emalf’s red, scaled hand with her own, tugging on him. “Come on, Emalf! Come on, Papa and Lico! We need to get going before everyone else gets there!”

Ivlis shook his head, his golden eyes seeming a bit distant as he explained that he had something to take care of. Licorice wondered what it could be to have Mama looking so sad. Was it more work for the Flame Underworld? With Ivlis in charge, Licorice could only imagine what kind of duties it must entail. This change in plans didn’t seem to bother Poemi, as she jumped up and down as she dragged Emalf further out of the room.

“H – Hang on, Poemi!” Emalf stuttered. “I’m comin', I’m comin'!”

“Lico, hurry up,” Poemi whined, still on a mission to leave the castle as quickly as possible.

Licorice looked at the party of two that was leaving, thinking that it might be a nice change of pace to go with Emalf and Poemi. After all, he had gone with them to go camping that one time, which he highly enjoyed; roasting marshmallows was his favorite part of that evening since he loved sweets. However, Licorice also remembered coming home to find Ivlis sitting in his room, purple blood splattered all over the floor, walls, and Ivlis himself, who sat there in a state of shock. Licorice had quickly determined the main perpetrator of this, who was resting on Ivlis’s lap, covered in his own blood. Since then, Licorice was a bit more apprehensive about going out without Ivlis around. After all, he never knew when his father would come over like this to surprise his mother.

Deciding it was best to hold back for now, Licorice shook his head. “That’s okay, Poemi. Go with Emalf for now. I promise to join in next time, okay?”

“Okay ~ !” Poemi sang out, her spirits certainly not dampened by Licorice’s absence, soon disappearing around the corner with the reluctant Emalf, who was muttering to himself about how he was always getting things pinned on him.

As the commotion finally died down with Poemi’s disappearing, Licorice audibly heard Ivlis let out a deep sigh, loosening his scarf around his neck as if to breathe a bit easier. Ivlis turned his gaze to his youngest child, and Licorice smiled up at him, his little black shoes swinging back and forth as he saw Ivlis give him a small smile. “Licorice, why didn’t you want to go with them?” Ivlis asked.

“I wanted to stay here with you, Mama,” Licorice said matter-of-factly. Ivlis just stared at the boy, blinking a few times. Licorice certainly liked hanging around him a lot. Though, Ivlis figured it was because he was still quite young, even if he could turn into his adult form anytime he willed or when his emotions were too high. Sighing again, Ivlis approached Licorice, ruffling his black hair. Licorice felt pleased when Mama would do that for him. Though, staring up into Ivlis’s face, Licorice couldn’t help but feel a bit saddened and apprehensive about why Ivlis looked so sad.

“Licorice, could you do me a favor?” Ivlis asked.

A favor? Licorice nodded profusely. Anything to help Mama.

“Will you go play in your room for a little bit? I have things I need to take care of.” Ivlis gazed at his son’s eyes - somewhat similar to his own - trying to gauge the boy’s reaction. This was probably the best way to phrase this. Ivlis knew that if he mentioned a certain individual that Licorice would be a bit more upset and unwilling to go to his room; though, Ivlis suspected Licorice would still be obedient even if he knew. But why make the child upset?

Still a bit uneasy, Licorice nodded again. “Yes, Mama. I’ll play in there. I’ll draw you a picture.” Licorice enjoyed drawing and coloring, especially portraits of Mama. Licorice slid off the couch, landing on his feet. He gave a tight squeeze around Ivlis’s legs before scampering off out of the living room and down the hallway to his room. Thinking of drawing for Mama made some of his anxiety start to fade despite whatever Mama’s duties were today.

After an hour had passed, Licorice had amassed quite a few drawings for Ivlis and the family. Some were just for fun – little mindless doodles, while others were pictures of Ivlis, Poemi, and even Emalf. He soon found himself distracted after he had completed his artwork, and gazing around the room, he didn’t see anything that piqued his interest to entertain him. Picking up a few random items scattered in his room didn’t seem to help with the boredom either. Lying flat on his back on his purple, circular rug, staring up at the ceiling, Licorice soon decided it was probably okay to visit Mama now, wherever he was at. He’d bring his drawings with him to show Ivlis what he had accomplished in this amount of time.

Proud of himself, Licorice sat up, rolling over to push himself up. He gathered the colorful sheets of drawings from his small, wooden table, stacking them neatly in his hands. With a smile, Licorice opened the door to his room, wandering down the hallway to Ivlis’s throne room. Surely if it was business related, he’d be there.

Upon peeking into the long room, Licorice could see the long red carpet and large red and gold throne sitting unoccupied. Hmm; perhaps Mama was in his study? Licorice turned on his heel to go investigate there, too. Alas, still no Mama in there – only piles of papers scattered on Mama’s large desk. A little bit concerned, Licorice continued to wander the empty hallways, listening for Ivlis’s voice or any indication of where he could be. Soon, Licorice found a clue.

In the middle of the hallway lie a piece of clothing that looked quite familiar. The closer he got to it, Licorice knew it was Ivlis’s scarf. The red and black colors were unmistakable, as was the way it was designed with its winged edges. Licorice wasn’t sure why Mama didn’t have wings if he was a devil – after all, Papa and him had wings – but he was glad that Mama had this scarf to give him a semblance of wings. Crouching down next to the scarf, not minding the coolness of the floor on his bare knees, Licorice placed his stack of papers to his left, reaching out to touch the soft scarf, lifting it up in his hands. Quite big in his tiny hands, Licorice wondered where the scarf had originally come from or if Ivlis had been given it as a gift. After all, he was always wearing it. Was it just part of his outfit – to remind him of wings? Or was it a special gift from someone?

That’s when the idea came to Licorice. His eyes lit up in excitement as he brought the scarf up to his face, sniffing it slightly. It smelled of Mama, and he smiled gleefully, remembering Ivlis. Part of Licorice’s mind told him to be a bit more concerned at the moment about why something so precious to Ivlis would be lying in the middle of the hallway, but Licorice was overcome with a wonderful idea.

He now knew what he wanted to do for Mama for Christmas.

Dropping the scarf back where he found it, and quickly gathering his drawings in his hands, Licorice dashed off to his room again. He had to quickly make some sketches of the brilliant idea in his mind.


	2. A Little Help from Papa

Licorice ran his long fingertips over the edges of the books; this must have been the fiftieth shelf that he had looked over. He sighed, realizing that this was going to take longer than he had expected or anticipated. He knew that his father’s library was a wide treasure trove of information, with books on nearly every subject imaginable. Now, standing in the maze of incredibly tall shelves with books lining nearly every corner of the room from top to bottom, Licorice knew he was in way over his head. Just how many books did this man need?!

Beginning to get a bit frustrated at the lack of progress he was making, Licorice forced himself to press on, deciding that perhaps it was time to quickly glance over the spines of the books, hoping the subject he was searching for would soon pop out at him. Besides, he didn’t want to stay in this place – tranquil as it might be – for longer than he had to be here. After all, this was _his_ library, and that meant staying longer in Satanick’s home, which Licorice dreaded.

Lost in his own thoughts while his eyes scanned mindlessly over the books that passed by as he began to pick up the pace with his long legs, Licorice came to a halt when his body slammed into that of another. Licorice grunted from the force as he stumbled backwards, finding himself landing hard onto his bottom. “Ugghh,” he groaned out. He winced as he felt the slight ache in his shoulder and chest that had slammed into that of the other guest in this apparently occupied library. Leaning back on his hands to gather himself to push himself back up – mindful of his black and purple cape draped behind him – Licorice felt his heart sink seeing the man that was sitting in practically the same way he was. _Like looking into a mirror,_ he couldn’t help but think, hating that thought that snuck its way into his mind.

Satanick’s surprised expression soon gave way to a large smile as he saw his son was the one that had bumped into him. “Hey, there, Licorice!” he happily greeted him. “What a surprise to see you here. When did you arrive?” The sound of his father’s voice grated on Licorice’s nerves, and the more he kept blathering, the more Licorice could feel his mood turning even more sour. “Were you perhaps looking for your dear, old dad?” Satanick hopped up to his feet first, dusting off his pants and then his hands. He stretched out his white-gloved hand for Licorice, softly smiling at his son to accept his open invitation to help him up.

Grumbling inside and hoping it didn’t leak out too much, Licorice slid his hand into his father’s, allowing Satanick to help yank him up from the floor. Licorice soon snatched his hand back, dusting his own pants and cape off. The more he stared at this man, the more he felt strange seeing how much the two of them really did look alike – the dark hair, purple horns, and even purple wings – though Licorice was thankful he had his mother’s eyes. Trying to continue on his journey, Licorice nodded at his father, his eyes then returning to scan the books that he had been focused on. Ready to continue onward, Licorice swept past Satanick to keep focused on the task at hand, hoping that his busyness would deter his father from trying to interact too closely with him. Childish he might be, but even Licorice knew the way his father was towards Mother, and he honestly did not approve of it. Sure, some days were better than others, but Licorice still couldn’t find it in himself to forget all the times that Satanick had made Mother cry in pain.

As Licorice walked onward, trying his best to refocus his thoughts on finding the books he was searching for, he soon realized that he had company that lurked beside him like an annoying shadow. Stopping and turning to face Satanick, Licorice saw the teasing smirk of that man; that look always agitated him even further. Satanick was slightly bent forward as he walked, keeping his eyes on both Licorice and the books. “Why are you following me?” Licorice demanded.

Satanick straightened up, that wide grin still on his face. “You seem lost, Lico. Whatcha searching for?”

Licorice narrowed his eyes at his father, not quite wanting to explain to his father what he was searching for. Yes, it was a secret because he wanted to keep it that way for Mother, but he was also a bit embarrassed about the subject. Thinking of this, Licorice began to blush a bit, and Satanick chuckled.

“Oh ho, is it something diiiiirrrrrtyyyy, Licorice?” Satanick raised a hand to his mouth to giggle behind his fingers.

Licorice felt himself stiffen up and his face clearly display shock, disgust, and a bright red hue across his cheeks at such a lewd statement. “W – What?!” he choked out. “What kind of nonsense are you talking about?!” Where in the world had his father gotten such an outlandish idea?!

Moving his right hand away from his mouth, Satanick pointed directly behind Licorice at the shelf Licorice was standing in front of. “Well, you stopped here.” Turning around, Licorice read the titles of some of the books this particular shelf featured; nothing but erotic novels. Snapping his head back towards his father with the filthiest look he could muster, this only made Satanick laugh out loud now, holding his sides. Seeing the genuine amusement on his father’s face made Licorice feel odd to see him like this, while also detesting him that he found some humor in Licorice’s embarrassment.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Lico,“ Satanick breathed out, his laughter now settling down. “You know, I’ve even written some of those myself, if you’re ever interested. Hey, wait; where are you going?”

Licorice continued to storm off while his father was still speaking. The sooner he find the reference books, the better; this run in was becoming quite the inconvenience for him. Still, the shoes that tapped behind him only reminded Licorice that he was not going to easily get rid of his old man that easily. After a few moments of searching and frustration continuing to bubble up, Licorice turned to face Satanick. The man stood back a bit, hands in his pockets as he gave a simple smile to his son.

“Make yourself useful, and please tell me where the books are on knitting.” Such an odd string of words that came out of his mouth, Licorice thought – annoyance, a simple plea, and a demand for a book on knitting. Never would he have thought he would be in this situation to ask such a thing from the one person he never wanted to ask such a thing to.

Satanick must have been just as confused, as his eyes widened and then sparkled with curiosity. “Knitting? You said you’re looking for a book on knitting?”

Licorice looked away for a moment, the embarrassment creeping back into his veins and seeping throughout his body. “Look, I didn’t come here to be mocked. Just get on with it and tell me where I can find it, alright?”

Satanick let out a soft chuckle as he slid his right hand out of his pocket to place on his hip. “My, my. You’re awfully moody today, Lico. I suppose I should offer you some assistance so you don’t get any crankier.” He continued to jest, and this made Licorice growl in the back of his throat.

 _Just get through this,_ he told himself. _Endure for a bit longer. This is for Mother, after all._

A minute of silence passed before Satanick began walking further down the hallways of winding mazes. Licorice gave chase, trying to keep up with the man who seemed to know this place like the back of his hand. Well, he supposed since this was Satanick’s library, he would have some knowledge of where he kept everything. Finally – after what felt like an eternity to Licorice – Satanick stopped in front of a large shelf that housed all manner of art books, craft books, and everything in between. Licorice took notice of the amount of sewing books that seemed to be available as Satanick traced a finger over the spines of the books in the same manner Licorice had been doing earlier. _Like father, like son_ , Licorice thought, only to hate himself for such a silly quote to pop into his brain.

Satanick plucked a fairly thick book out from the shelf with a turquoise spine. He looked it over, giving it a light blow to dust it off. He gave an almost nostalgic smile upon seeing the book he was holding, and Licorice couldn’t help but wonder what that implied. Curious as his childish nature might be, Licorice tried to ignore this for the time being as Satanick held out the book to Licorice.

“Here you go, Lico,” Satanick proudly stated. As Licorice placed his hands on the top edge of the book, ready to pull it towards him, Satanick kept his grip on it. Licorice turned his gaze to his fathers, only to once again groan internally at that sly smile. Of course it would never be this easy to get the book and just leave, now would it? This was Satanick he was dealing with. Licorice remained silent as he waited for Satanick to reveal what the holdup was.

“Licorice, I’m a curious man, you know,” Satanick hummed. “Won’t you tell your dear Papa what you need this type of book for? I didn’t take you as the type that likes to work with this type of thing.”

There it was once again – that embarrassment rearing its head. Rationally, Licorice knew there was nothing to be embarrassed about. After all, it was a simple thing; many had this hobby, right? Still, Licorice was new to this entire process, and he didn’t want Satanick to know that his ultimate goal was to knit his mother a special present for Christmas.

“Please ~?” Satanick sang out, leaned forward over the book to stare at his son with a teasing, pleading look on his face. “Come on, Lico, it’s the holidays. Where’s your holiday spirit to share with Daddy?”

“Ugh, will you quit it?!” Licorice huffed, feeling like a brat just with how he was allowing this man to get under his skin and react in this manner. Licorice was able to yank the book from Satanick, who merely chuckled, watching his son beginning to flip through the book. Licorice’s expression only began to change once again, this time to confusion as he did not quite understand what he was staring at or what any of these terms meant.

Licorice looked up when he saw Satanick was even closer to him now, his face practically in the book with his. “Gah!” Licorice jumped back, wanting to put distance between himself and his eccentric father. “What is wrong with you?” Licorice held the book in front of him, as if this was a line of defense for him against this strange man that was his father.

Satanick gave another laugh, seemingly pleased with this entire interaction. “Oh, Lico, I’m having such a great time with you. But even I can see that you don’t even know the first thing about this subject.” He waggled his finger at the book in his son’s hands, referring to that.

Licorice narrowed his eyes, a smirk on his lips now. “Oh, and you do? Thanks, but I’ll manage.” Turning around, Licorice was ready to stomp out of the library – hoping he could remember his way out of these twisting corridors – only for Satanick’s hand to clasp onto his right shoulder. Sighing heavily, Licorice turned to face his father’s beaming face. “What now?” he groaned out.

“I might not be the smartest in your eyes, my boy, but I know my way around the domestic arts.” Satanick gave a soft smile to Licorice. “So, how about it? Want me to teach you?”

Licorice stared at his father a moment, his mouth slightly open in surprise. His father really knew how to do this kind of thing? Did he really just offer to help him learn how to knit? No way did he want to be around him more than he had to be already, and now he was offering this absurdity? He honestly dreaded the thought of spending alone time with his father, worried that the constant teasing would only agitate Licorice and put him in a foul mood for the rest of the week. Still…the book did not make things look any easier for him. He really wanted to accomplish making Mother a scarf for Christmas, but would he really be able to if he couldn’t even wrap his head around the directions? Honestly, maybe Satanick’s invitation to help could be of use to Licorice….

Lowering his head a moment to give out a resigned sigh, Licorice met his father’s gaze once again. He didn’t even say anything to know that Satanick already knew Licorice’s answer; the satisfied, smug smile said it all. Even so, Licorice nodded his agreement. “Fine. You can help me with this. It…would make things a bit easier on me. But –,” Licorice released the book from his right hand to point at his father, “– you are to tell no one about this. Understand?” His determined expression was hopefully convincing enough for his father to keep quiet about this entire thing. He was still uneasy about spending this much time with his father on this new project. But, anything for Mother….

Satanick pulled back his hand from off of Licorice’s shoulder, clapping his hands together in front of his chest as if in victory. “Alright! This will be so much fun, Licorice. So, what are we knitting for Buri-chan’s Christmas present?”

The surprised look on his son’s face had Satanick once again laughing and the boy’s cheeks becoming red. Satanick was always ahead of the game, wasn’t he?


	3. The Joy of Christmas

Finally.

Today was the day Licorice had been anticipating so eagerly. Yes, everyone in the castle seemed to be excited for the holiday season and festivities – every day Poemi bounced around cheering about the possibility of presents – but it was different for Licorice. Today was Christmas day, and he was feeling quite a mixture of emotions. Part of him was excited about the possibility of presents – he wouldn’t mind some more sweets – and he also enjoyed the idea of seeing everyone getting to spend more quality time together. However, Licorice was also feeling a little anxious. Sitting on the sofa as he stared at Poemi tearing into a box wrapped in red, sparkling paper, Licorice couldn’t help but peek at the one present that meant the most to him. Inside the rectangular box, wrapped in purple tissue paper, lie the scarf he had spent so much time working on with Papa.

Thinking back over the past few days, it had been quite exhausting spending so much time with Satanick….

_“Licorice, you’re really bad at this,” Satanick giggled behind the back of his right hand. He stood behind Licorice as Licorice held the two large knitting needles in his hands. For the past half hour, he had been struggling to figure out how to hold the darn things and get the yarn to properly wrap around them the way it was supposed to. His patience was already wearing thin having his father hovering over his shoulder like this, but to hear him merely snickering at his failed attempts was becoming quite grating._

_Licorice swiveled his head around so fast he thought his neck would snap as he glared at his father. This only seemed to make Satanick laugh harder now, and Licorice’s cheeks shot through with red in anger and embarrassment. “Well, if you’d bloody help me, then we wouldn’t be having this problem, now would we?!”_

_“I_ am _helping you, Licorice,” Satanick giggled. Placing a hand on his son’s left shoulder, Satanick leaned down to look at Licorice’s hands and how he was holding the needles. “Well, there’s part of your problem – you have to wrap the yarn around with your right hand first. Here, let me show you.” Satanick now slid his hand off of Licorice’s shoulder so he could place both hands on top of his. Licorice tensed up a bit at this, not quite sure if he liked that his father was literally giving him hands-on instructions, but he supposed he would just have to endure it if he wanted to learn this. He allowed Satanick’s fingers to guide his own, trying to not tighten his muscles too much that instinctively wanted to pull back. Clunky as the movements were, he could see that Satanick clearly knew what he was doing._

_With the yarn looped around the needles finally, Licorice stared at the red strands, quite surprised that his fingers were able to accomplish this; well, thanks to Fathers help, he realized. Now unsure what to do with his hands, Licorice turned his face upwards to stare at Satanick, who was smiling down at him. Part of Licorice felt a bit apprehensive that Satanick was smiling at him like this. Sure, he liked that his father seemed happy, but Licorice wasn’t sure what to make of his happiness. After a few moments of awkward silence, Licorice raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. “What’s next, exactly?”_

_Satanick smiled even more, giggling. “Well, you still need to pick out what method you’re gonna use.” He nodded his head down at the book on the table that was open to a page listing all of the various methods. Small images of each method were listed to their respective names, but all of it looked like gibberish to Licorice as Satanick continued on. “Do you want to do the weft or the filling knits? Or perhaps the warp method?” With no response from Licorice but a slightly agape mouth and confused look, Satanick pulled back from him to continue to chuckle._

_The boy began to feel almost self-conscious that he had no clue what any of this meant, and he once again felt a heated blush rising to his face. Satanick must have noticed that, as he let his snickers die down. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he wheezed, trying to calm himself down. “I shouldn’t tease you so much. You did come to me for help, after all.”_

_“I didn’t exactly –.“ Licorice was cut off as Satanick swept over to his side, his cape swishing behind him as he took a seat on the edge of the table so he was sitting right in front of Licorice’s left-hand side._

_“Trust me, Licorice. By the end of these next few days, I will have you a pro at this.”_

The past few days had been a stress-inducing time for Licorice. Staying in his adult form was quite tiresome for him at times, especially when being teased at the hands of his father. Most days he would stay as an adult in order to try to try to finish the scarf as soon as possible, but some days he would become too tired to argue with Satanick. Once he felt he got a somewhat steady handle on the repetitive movement of his hands, he would turn into his child form to practice the knitting techniques. Satanick would sit across from or next to Licorice, always staring at him and smiling. Licorice would often pay him little mind, but he did notice that he had been asking more questions about the learning process. Satanick always happily obliged with responding to his son’s requests.

What made Licorice feel quite special was when Satanick would send his subordinates or others away until a later time when they would come looking for him. He would wave them off, simply telling them, _“I’m spending time with Licorice.”_ If he was being honest, Licorice could feel his heart feeling warm at those notions; that Satanick was somewhat shirking his sovereign duties to help him with this project. When Satanick wasn’t looking, Licorice could feel himself smiling a little at these times.

_The day he had finally finished the scarf, Licorice placed down the needles onto the wooden table, holding up the middle of the completed present with pride as his small face beamed with joy. “Look, Papa! I did it!” Never before had he done something like this. A sense of accomplishment washed over Licorice as he stared at the reds and purples mingled in the scarf in alternating patterns, then looking into almost the same shade of purple of his father’s eyes. Satanick gave a soft smile to the boy, a proud look on his own face as his chin rested in his palms, elbows propped up on the table in front of him._

_“You did so well, Licorice.” Satanick now reached across the table, placing his right hand on the boy’s black hair, careful of his own purple horns that curled just like Ivlis’s. “I’m proud of you.”_

_Hearing those simple words from his father’s lips, Licorice beamed even more. At this moment in time, he wasn’t ashamed to let Satanick see the happiness spread across his face. Thanks to him, he had actually accomplished his goal of making the perfect present for Mama. Putting the scarf down back onto the table, Licorice found himself sliding down out of the wooden chair he was sitting on, taking a few steps over to Satanick. Reaching up, Licorice slid his arms around Satanick’s waist, giving him a hug. He soon felt Satanick’s arms sliding around his shoulders to return the impromptu hug. “Thank you, Papa.”_

Yes, it had been truly exhausting in that man’s presence. Yet, Licorice found himself with a tiny smile as he thought about it now. Papa was overly open and eccentric, but seeing him give so much of his time and attention to him had been quite nice. Maybe time with Papa wasn’t so bad after all….

“Papa, this one’s for you!”

Poemi’s voice snapped Licorice out of his reverie to see Poemi holding up the wrapped present that he had been eagerly anticipating for Mama to open. His heart began to pound as he watched Poemi cheerfully hand Ivlis the present, and the flame devil looked at the name on the tag. Kneeling on the floor near Poemi, Ivlis now turned his golden eyes towards his son. Licorice couldn’t help but feel the excitement beginning to bubble over. He tried to contain it with little use, as he began swinging his legs back and forth - his shoes thumping against the couch - as he clasped his hands together in his lap.

“Emalf, this one’s from me!” Poemi tossed the sloppily wrapped present she held in her hands to the demon sitting off to the left side of the sofa Licorice was on. Emalf practically juggled the present as he hastily caught it.

As Poemi quickly moved along with the gift-giving, the tearing of the red paper had Licorice hyper-focused on Ivlis’s red, scaled hands as he revealed the white box hidden inside of the wrapping. Now staring curiously at the box, Ivlis cracked it open, and Licorice could feel the anticipation killing him as he watched Mama lift back the purple tissue paper, and his eyes began to scan the neatly folded scarf in the simple rectangular box. The boy could almost feel his breath stop and his heart pound as he stared with giant eyes to try to gauge every little reaction from Mama.

What was he thinking as he examined the scarf in his fingers? Did he like it? Were the colors okay? Did he miss a stitch on the figure-eight cast-on pattern? As the anxious thoughts swirled inside of his head, Licorice watched in astonishment as Ivlis unraveled his signature scarf he usually wore from his neck. Ivlis placed it to his right-hand side as he then reached into the box to fully pull out the scarf, staring at the details of the reds and purples that alternated. With a soft and almost proud smile, Ivlis wrapped the scarf around his neck.

Licorice could feel his heart swell and his eyes light up watching Mama wear his scarf. He felt so giddy he could barely contain himself. When Ivlis raised a hand to wave Licorice over to him, Licorice immediately slid off the couch to race over to Ivlis, stopping right in front of him, waiting for Ivlis’s response. He found himself blurting out, “Mama, do you like it? I made it. Papa helped me.”

Ivlis’s eyes widened for a second at the mention of “Papa,” only to soon close as he gave a soft snicker. He reopened his eyes, those golden depths lighting up Licorice's world. “So that explains where you’ve been going every day. I was wondering why you were spending so much time over in the Pitch Black World.” Truth be told, it slightly bothered Ivlis that Licorice had gone off to that place so many times. Then again, he realized that it wasn’t fully his place to tell this boy what he could and couldn’t do in his spare time. He had been too busy these past few days to really pay much mind, too.

Ivlis then gave the most soft and genuine smile Licorice had seen in such a long time. To think that such a simple gift such as this scarf would make Mama happy made Licorice beam, his orange, yellow eyes glowing. He smiled even brighter when Ivlis leaned forward to place a small kiss on the top of Licorice’s head, right between his little purple horns. “Thank you, Licorice. I love it.”

As Licorice could hear the faint bantering of Poemi smacking Emalf with some sort of plush toy behind him, he watched – mesmerized – as Ivlis reached down to pick up his signature black and red scarf he always wore. Licorice stood in awe as Ivlis wrapped the scarf around his neck. The large garment practically draped around Licorice, obviously too big for him. Such a trivial thing did not matter to Licorice; all that mattered to him right now was that Ivlis had just wrapped his most precious possession around him.

With another soft smile to Licorice, Ivlis now turned his attention to Poemi, who was standing over a cowering Emalf with his arms raised above his head to fend off the attacks of her large, pink plush bear. “Poemi, what are you doing?” Ivlis stood up, walking over to his daughter. Licorice did not mind at all, as he placed his hands up to his neck, lightly touching the scarf that was now part of him for the time being.

Quickly looking around, Licorice could see the scattered papers and boxes of presents that had all been opened and exposed to the little family in this room. Turning around carefully so as to not trip over the large wings of his mother’s scarf, Licorice watched as Ivlis held Poemi’s weapon of choice above his head as Poemi jumped up and down to grab it back from him. Emalf lie on the floor, legs spread out with his torso propped against the edge of the couch leg, looking as if he was already tired from this morning’s festivities.

“Mama,” Licorice piped up over the occasional shouts and grunts of a jumping Poemi as she reached her own red claws to grab at Ivlis’s. Ivlis turned his head over his left shoulder to look back towards his son. “Can I go play in my room for a bit?”

As Ivlis nodded, he quickly turned back to Poemi, who had successfully grabbed ahold of the plushy, dashing off with it as she giggled. As Ivlis let out a sigh, watching his overly excited daughter, his own overly excited son had a mission of his own. Licorice gathered up as much of the wings as he could underneath his arms as he practically ran out of the living room and down the hallway to his room, his heart pounding in joy.

Mama had let him wear his scarf! He had to see what it looked like on him.

The tap of his little black shoes soon faded as he burst into his bedroom and onto the rug in the center of his room. Slightly off to the side of his bed and only a few feet in front of him, Licorice stared into the full, rectangular mirror that stood at the ready on its pedestal legs. He unfurled the scarf from underneath his arms, letting the large wings naturally swish back into place. How large they were!

As he stared at the scarf curled around his neck and the giant black and red wings that stood behind him, Licorice beamed with pride. Mama had let him wear his scarf – his most favorite scarf, or so Licorice assumed since he always wore it. He could feel the softness wrapped around his neck, and as his mouth and nose tucked into it due to its size, he could smell Mama’s scent once again.

Feeling giddy and proud of himself, Licorice flopped backwards onto his circular rug, happily wrapping the scarf with its wings around him. He rolled around as if rolling himself in a blanket, giggling to himself. Such joy filled his little heart, and he couldn’t help but smile with the widest smile he could recall having in a long time.

After a few moments of rolling around in Mama’s soft, warm scarf that smelled so lovely, Licorice held onto the black and red fabric as he stared up at the ceiling, letting some of the tiredness finally reach his eyes. He hoped it would soon reach his jumpy heart; though, truth be told, he enjoyed this feeling.

So, this is what Christmas was supposed to feel like....

As he finally let his heavy eyelids droop, a smile still plastered onto his face, Licorice could only hope that next year’s holiday would be even better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this cozy little fic. :) <3


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